Curve

Gravel crunches under the worn tires of the sleek, black Audi,

As it speeds its way up the single lane, winding mountain pass.

The moon is full in the black night sky,

Stars twinkle, millions of fireflies strung like lights from the tree tops.

A sharp turn, the driver’s headlights illuminate the next steep curve.

Frantic to escape his drunken wife, is up for any challenge.

                                                                                   

The complete darkness of the small road is proving a challenge.

Although, the driver loves his Audi.

It is not the most practically car to drive on the pass with so many curves.

No one could see the driver if they had happened to pass.

The driver harshly blinks his eyes which bore into the curve’s top.

Headlights rushes toward him, seemingly from the sky.

The headlights fall out of the sky,

Swerving, struggling to keep control of the mountain’s challenge.

The birds audibly flock from the tree tops,

As the lights continue, quickly, to approach the Audi.

The driver hastily veers left to let the speeding lights pass.

The driver can’t understand how the lights haven’t hit a tree as it, yet again, curves.

In blatant shock, the driver watches the birds in the sky flying in curves.

Time is running out the lights have left the sky.

The driver knows he isn’t getting a free pass.

The driver knows the lights, as well as himself, have both lost the challenge.

The lights are going to crash into the Audi.

The driver has five seconds to get out of his car and run, tops.

It just wasn’t enough time; he had a better chance of God rising above the tree tops.

The irony of the situation at hand was eerie, as the lights illuminate the sickening curves

Of an equally sleek car that belonged to the driver’s drunken wife, barreling toward the Audi.

The drunken wife is slumped back in her seat, head angled toward the sky,

Seemingly asleep, completely unaware of the pass’ challenge.

The two cars are face to face now; the driver mutters a prayer, begging for a quick pass.

And quick was the pass.

The ground quaked as well as the tree tops.

The crash looked painfully, warning people who were next to try the challenge.

The birds take flight, showing off how easily they take the curves.

The black mass of little, fluttering birds blanket the sky.

A few take a rest on the heap of cooling hunk of metal that used to be an Audi.

The mountain’s challenge has come to pass.

It left two dead, one welded chunk of metal containing an Audi and God-less tree tops.

The imaginary curves formed by the birds are still flying, undisturbed, uninhibited, in the sky.